Auld Lang Syne
by TStabler
Summary: A series of New Year's Eve one-shots, some fluffy, some more than that. Resolutions are kept, broken, forgotten, and never made. Relationships are formed and destroyed. All leading to a Happy New Year for all. E/O with others!
1. Love Boat

**A/N: It's a new year, time for a new start.**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and characters? Dick Wolf. This story? TStabler**

It's the first time since he's known her that he's nervous around her. He feels his palms sweating and can almost hear his own heartbeat. He takes a deep breath and walks toward her, hoping he doesn't drop the two champagne glasses he's carrying along the way. He makes it to the railing and slinks up behind her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to hand her the bubbly drink.

She smirks as she takes the glass from him, knowing that is his attempt at being smooth. She turns to him and holds her glass up. "To us," she says, and she waits.

He clinks his glass against hers and says, "To new beginnings." They sip together, looking into each other's eyes. Their arms drop at the same time and he speaks. "Beautiful night," he says as he lets his gaze wander from her to the night sky. "Just the two of us, the water, the..."

"El," she interrupts. "You know you don't have to do this, right?"

He looks at her, one eyebrow raised, and he sips his champagne. "Do what?" he breathes after he swallows.

"You're pale, you're shaking," she says, dropping her glass to the small table beside her. "This is me. Us."

"Yeah," he says, exhaling. "That's why I'm so nervous." He looks back at her as the boat jerks, rocking in it's port. "Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this?" He puts his half-gone drink down beside hers. "For what we're doing, here? I don't wanna fuck this up."

She laughs and links her fingers with his, pulling his hand from her shoulder. "I seriously doubt there's anything you can do to fuck this up," she says. "We've survived explosions, car accidents, stabbings, shootings...I think we can weather a few cheesy moments on a boat."

"We weren't...together...for all of that," he tells her. He sees her quirk an eyebrow at him. "Not like this," he corrects, tugging her into him and wrapping his other arm around her. "We're...different than most couples. We've been through Hell together, we've known each other for years...I've been in love with you almost as long as I've known you." He bites his lip. "I don't know what's too fast for us, or what's too slow. We've crossed lines that were never drawn, we've blurred ones that were never even there. We are more now than we have ever been, yet nothing's really changed. It...you make me nervous."

"We've never really had limits, El," she says, her tone flat. "Labels and rules? That was never us. Why do we need to label it now?"

"Because we can." He blinks once and licks his lips, aching to kiss her. "It's different, now, don't you get it?" he scoffs. "What we had before, that was friends with a ton of incredible fucking benefits, with secrets that we shouldn't have had to keep..." he stops. "Now, it's real, and it's final. Official. It's the only thing that has ever made sense to me, and I don't wanna lose this because I'm impatient, but...Liv, fuck, I can't keep my hands...or my lips off of you. I never could."

She is the one with the sweaty palms now. Her heart hammers in her chest as her lips part to let the shivering breath loose into the cold evening air, and she searches his eyes for any sign that he's lying. Seeing none, she tells him, "Then don't."

That's all the encouragement he needs. His hands fly to the nape of her neck, he pulls her hard toward him, and their lips meet with such a fierce crash that he's sure someone has a chipped tooth. He eases up, only just, and runs his tongue along her teeth, along her lips, teasing her, testing her. "You want this," he whispers.

She nods fast, her own hands clutching the wool of his sweater. "So do you," she pants, feeling his hands brush down the length of her body. She moans when he cups her ass and squeezes, forcing her tighter into him.

He thrusts into her, letting her know just how much he does, in fact, want her. "You know why it had to be tonight, don't you? Why I brought you out here to do this, tonight?"

"Because you suffered an early mid-life crisis and bought a boat," she jokes. She moans when he rubs against her again, his hardness pressing against her thigh and part of her stomach. She can feel how thick he is, how long, and it both frightens and excites her. "It's New Year's Eve," she says softly, his lips a breath away from hers.

He smiles, there is wickedness in his grin, and he nods. "Yeah. You and me. Tonight. Ending the year that almost tore us apart, and starting the next one more together than we have ever been." He moves, ushering her backward. He presses her into the wall of the boat's cabin, and he kisses her hard.

She lets out a strangled whimper, her emotions spiraling out of control as much as her body. Her nails rake up his back, under the thick sweater, and she silently wishes he'd take it off so she could feel more of him, see more of him.

He grunts at the feeling of her hands on him, he rolls into her again, and he breathes into her ear as he nips at her lobe. "Where?" he asks, as if it matters. Location is never an issue; they always act on impulse.

She turns her head and looks into his eyes. "Right here," she answers. She's firm, and she's sure, and she's ready. She gasps as the frigid fingers of his left hand slip up her dress, and she closes her eyes when she feels him sliding down her satin panties. He's slower than usual, and she knows it's because he's trying to discern tonight from their previous encounters.

Blowing off steam, they had called it. Comfort. A need that only a true partner could fulfill. Never talked about before or after, only acknowledged during their trysts. They could never admit it, but it was always so much more, to both of them, and tonight is about finally facing it all.

He takes the smallest step backward as he grabs the hem of her dress and pulls it up. His breath catches in his throat as her body comes into full view, and he tosses the black fabric to the floor.

The frost against her skin doesn't register, she's hotter than Hell right now, and she watches as he peels away the layers of clothing from his form. She bites her lip a bit harder when he drops his pants, kicks them off, and stands before her in nothing but the moonlight.

He moves first, one hand smoothing over the side of her face. He can see the bursts of breath in the air as he pants, inching toward her, but he's not cold at all. He brushes his lips over hers and that's when the goose bumps appear. He chuckles at his awkwardness, then he looks into her eyes. He sees the same warmth that has always been there, the same love that he's seen for years, and he relaxes. He relents. "Kiss me," he demands softly.

Her head bends and her lips latch onto his. Her arms wind around his neck; she moans when his strong palms hike her legs up around his waist, and she whispers his name when he nudges at her ready entrance.

He groans, and he rolls his neck for a moment. He feels her wetness begin to coat his tip as he pushes forward, and from conversations they've had he knows that she's only ever been this eager with him. He has to laugh, because it's the same on his end. No one has ever made him harder, more throbbing than her.

"Elliot," her soft voice cries, her body welcoming him with just a pinch of pan from the stretch. It's been a long time since she's been with him like this, since they decided it was all or nothing. She arches her back when he thrusts hard, bottoming out in one move.

He chuckles, proud, and he sweeps his hand through her hair as he watches her eyes roll back. He moves slowly, then, long and deep strokes in and out of her. When her head straightens, he grows bolder. He stays inside of her as he pulls back.

She moans louder as he twists her body away from the wall and she gasps when he drops her legs. "Oh, God," she cries, her eyes fluttering closed again.

He doesn't halt his thrusts, but works her harder, faster as he turns her around and leans her over the rail of the boat. He bends his head and kisses the back of her neck, moving her hair out of the way. "Do you remember," he asks, "The last time we did it like this? The balcony of that motel...we only had an hour..."

She reaches up and back, looping her arm around his neck. "God, yes," she says. Her head drops back against his chest when he palms both breasts, toying with her nipples. "Why are you..."

"Wait," he grunts, his body now slamming into hers, his hands keeping her as tightly pressed to him as possible. "Watch," he huffs, his tongue swirling in her ear as he pinches her nipples. His eyes dart from her to the city skyline.

The first firework makes her jump, it forces him deeper into her. "Fuck," she spits, her fingers gripping at the short hair at the back of his head. Her eyes are glued to the colored sparks, but her mind is trained on the feeling of him inside of her. Her focus, tonight, is on losing herself in him completely, and giving every last bit of herself to him, as he has vowed to do to her.

He's thrusting slower, but harder. Hitting into her each time with a grunt, he watches as her body glows with the colors reflecting from the fireworks blasting above them. He rolls her nipples between his fingers, his lips and teeth leave light marks on her neck. He chuckles as his right hand trickles down her trembling body, over her stomach, and searches out her clit.

"Oh, God," she moans. "Yes, Elliot," her voice breaks. She shivers as his fingers slip into her folds, she knows the tips of them are brushing against his shaft as it pumps in and out of her. She stiffens when she feels him swipe over the nub.

"How do you want it?" he asks, his words sending more shivers down her arching back. "Come on, baby, tell me how you want it!"

Her mind races. He's never asked before, it's always been his decision. Does she cum fast and hard, slow and intense, or roll in several easy waves? It's always been his call. She knows, now, how serious he is about making what they have solid. She presses her lips together and shakes her head, whining as his fingers work faster over her clit.

"Tell me," he barks, their flesh slapping together with each pounding movement of his hips.

The thunder of the fireworks, the lights blazing in the sky, and the overwhelming sensations taking over her body all blur in her mind, and she nearly blacks out. "Harder, baby," she finally says, her hand dropping from behind his head. She links her fingers with his, flicking at her clit with him, driving him to work faster, press harder.

He feels her clamp down and freeze, he hears her curse, and his hand is coated in as much slickness as his still-slamming length. "Fuck," he pants, and he knows that when she starts shuddering and pulsing around him, he will be lost to her.

"Elliot," she growls, collapsing backward into his strength, "God damn!"

There she goes, he thinks. Her quivering makes him throb, makes him burn, and with one more hard burst into her, he cums as hard as he made her. "Mother of God," he mumbles, his face buried in the valley between her neck and shoulder.

Resting there, now, they catch their breath in silence. The fireworks crash overhead, bathing them in soft blues and greens as they try to process the depth of what just happened. The sheen of sweat that covers them both evaporates quickly in the cold, and when he slips out of her she turns to look at him. There's another long silence as they stare intently at each other, obviously waiting for the other to say something. Anything.

"Happy New Year," he says, a smile on his face.

She laughs and says, "Yeah. It's gonna be."

**A/N: Next; A ball-drop to remember...for six very special people.**


	2. Twenty Minutes

**A/N: We lead such different lives before and after midnight**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and characters belong to Dick Wolf. This story belongs to TStabler.**

**Time: 11: 50 PM**

**Location: Coat Closet in the Ballroom of the Meridian Hotel, NYPD New Year's Eve Party.**

"You believe me now?" he growls out as he thrusts into her. He smirks, knowing she can't answer him. His hand is pressed over her mouth to muffle the screaming. "Just nod, baby"

Her eyes roll backward as her head bobs fast, she believes him. She always did, but making him prove it is too much fun. She claws at his hand, her nails leave red streaks in his skin.

He moves his hand but doesn't give her time to speak. He kisses her harder than he ever has, his hips crash against her as he slams into her with more force and speed than either of them are used to. He grunts with every thrust, savoring the feeling of each pass.

She moves her hand from his, trying to clutch onto something for leverage as he hikes her legs up around him. The only thing she can get a grip on is a soft leather jacket hanging next to her. She hopes the owner won't notice the crescent shaped marks she's making on the sleeve as its twists in her fingers.

He knows it's risky, maybe the closet isn't the best place for this, but he told her he wanted to be inside of her at midnight, no matter what. He glances at his wrist, hooked under her right leg, and looks at his watch. "Fuck," he spits, "Happy fucking New Year, Liv."

She moans as she starts the rapid ascension toward climax. "God damn it, El," she groans. "Happy New Year."

**Time: 11: 50 PM**

**Location: Elevator in the Lobby of the Meridian Hotel, NYPD New Year's Eve Party.**

"So that was it?" Casey asks, her voice soft. "I thought there would be more...I dunno...fireworks."

"It ain't midnight, yet," Fin says, not looking at her. "Besides, there's only fireworks when there's emotion behind it."

Casey shakes her head and scoffs. "You feel nothing, at this moment, then? Three years, down the fucking drain, and you can stand there and say you feel nothing now that it's over?"

"You ended it, Case!" Fin yells. "You fucking picked New Year's fucking Eve, and you ended it! You want me to cry? You want me to yell? Will that make you change you your mind?"

She's taken aback by his outburst, his honesty, and she does her best to give him the same in return. "No," she says. "It's over, but..."

"Exactly," Fin breaks in. "I'll call a lawyer in the mornin', when the papers come in, I'll sign 'em. Whatever you want, just...get the hell away from me, okay?"

She knows he's trying not to cry, and it kills her. "Okay," she says, slamming her hand into a button on the elevator. The door open and she steps out, refusing to look back at him in case he's really crying.

Fin turns, then, and punches the wall of the lift, angry and hurt tears slide down his cheeks. Through the blur, he can see the numbers on his watch blinking up at him. He kicks the wall, denting the metal. "Happy fucking New Year."

**Time: 11: 50 PM**

**Location: Room 311 of the Meridian Hotel, NYPD New Year's Eve Party.**

Alex moves, slowly and uncertainly, toward the couch. She eyes the man sitting there with confusion in her eyes. "We're missing the party," she says.

"No," Trevor says, shaking his head. "We're not." He reaches for the open bottle of champagne on the coffee table and pouring two glasses. "The party is right here," he says, handing one of the crystal flutes to her.

She takes the glass, and she smiles at him. "You're gonna make me miss Cragen's toast, and you know Olivia and Elliot are going in for it at midnight, tonight, in front of the whole..."

"Ten minutes," Trevor interrupts. "All I want, right now, is to spend the next ten minutes alone with you. I wanna be with you, just you, at midnight."

She sips the champagne with a nod, and she doesn't see him move. "That's sweet of...why are you on the floor?"

He smiles at her oblivion, and he pulls a small, blue box out of his back pocket. "Because you're supposed to be down one knee to do this, and you're on the couch, so...the floor..."

"What are you doing?" she asks, her heart pounding.

"You're a natural blonde, Al," Trevor teases. "You know what I'm doing."

She's silent as he flips open the box, and she blurts out the first thing she thinks of. "Happy fucking New Year!"

He laughs as she flings herself into his arms, toppling them over and rolling across the carpet. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes!" she chuckles, kissing him. They were already ten minutes late, a few more wouldn't matter.

**Time: 12:10 AM**

**Location: Ballroom of the Meridian Hotel, NYPD New Year's Eve Party.**

They walk into the main ballroom, hand in hand, smiling. They shake hands and make small talk with a few friends and colleagues, then he pulls her toward the very middle of the dance floor.

He sways with her for a bit, then twirls her around the floor with a laugh. "I can't remember ever being this happy," he tells her.

"Neither can I, El," she returns, dancing with him.

"You look like you just got good and fucked," he whispers to her, brushing her hair behind her ear. "But so beautiful."

She laughs and tugs on his tie. "I did just get good and fucked," she says through a clenched jaw. "By a hot detective, in a closet. Jealous?"

"Furiously," he jokes, pulling her into him and kissing her. He knows heads have turned, he can feel eyes staring, and it's what he'd planned, only ten minutes late.

She laughs, knowing he's gloating. She can feel his chest puffed out proudly, his arms tighten around her. Her hands wind together at the nape of his neck and she moans softly. Pulling her lips away from his, she says, "So how's your New Year's Eve, so far?"

"Perfect, baby," he says with a wink before pulling her toward him for another long, deep, kiss.

They're broken apart when someone taps Elliot on the shoulder. He turns, his smile fades, and he knows something's wrong. "What happened?" he asks, staring at Fin.

Fin shakes his head, unable to speak. He rubs both eyes with one hand, sniffles, and says, "I need you to tell me…how to survive a divorce."

Elliot blinks, then looks at Olivia. She nods at him and watches as he leads his friend off the floor and out of the ballroom.

She bites her lip and walks toward the bar, her eyes still on the door, her lips still tingling with his kiss. "Jack and Coke," she says absently to the bartender.

"Isn't that a little strong for you?" a familiar voice beside her asks.

She smiles and turns. "It's not for me, Alex." She tilts her head. "You look a little…happy."

"I am happy," Alex says with a small hand gesture. It has the desired effect; Olivia grabs her hand and yanks it, hard, toward her. "I need those fingers!" she yelps.

"What? When did this happen?" Olivia gasps, looking from the ring to Alex's face.

Alex chuckles. "Twenty minutes ago." She bites her lip. "Did Elliot…"

"Oh, he…he made sure everyone knew who he was here with," Olivia cracks with a scoff, dropping Alex's hand. "Congratulations, Al."

"Thanks," Alex says, looking around. "Hey, have you seen Casey?"

Olivia shakes her head. "My guess is…she went home. She, um, she told Fin."

"Tonight?" Alex gasps. "That's…so wrong."

Olivia shrugs and takes the drink from the bartender. She turns to head out to find Elliot, and over her shoulder she says, "Happy New Year!"

Alex raises her glass in response, then sinks into Trevor, standing behind her.

Olivia laughs at them, then walks toward the door, her breath hitching when she runs into the man she's searching for. "Hey," she says when she regains herself. "I got you a drink. Figured you'd need it."

He takes the glass from her, drinks the fiery liquid in one, long gulp, and lets out a refreshed breath. "Thanks, baby," he says to her. He looks at her and says, "One hell of a night, huh?"

She drops her forehead to his and says, "Just goes to show you how fast your life can change."

He kisses her and says, "Yeah. All it takes is twenty minutes, apparently."

"We've got a wedding, a divorce, and…"

"Hold on, wedding?" he asks, dropping his empty glass onto a nearby table and taking her hand. He pulls her back toward the dance floor.

She rolls her eyes, knowing he hates to dance, but wants to show her off tonight. "Trevor and Alex got engaged, at midnight."

"Oh," he laughs. "I remember where I was at midnight." He kisses her as he begins to move with her, oblivious to the man a few feet away, smiling.

"How long have they been together?" Cragen asks, turning to the man to his left.

Munch checks his watch, then says, "About twenty minutes."

"John," Cragen snaps.

"Three years," Munch tells him. "That's one of the reasons…"

"He didn't come back," Cragen finishes. "I figured. They look happy, don't they?"

Munch grins. "They do," he says. Then he turns his head. "Fin doesn't."

Cragen bites his lip. "He'll be okay once he realizes it's all for the better. He deserves to be happy, and he wasn't, right?" He holds up his glass and clinks it with Munch's. "Happy New Year, John."

Munch smiles. "Yeah, Cap." He nods. "It's gonna be a happy fucking new year."

**A/N: Next, a trip through a year in the lives of one couple, leading up to a mutual New Year's resolution.**


	3. Fireworks

**A/N: Baby, you're a firework.**

**DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and its characters. TStabler© owns the narrative, dialogue and plot of this story**

**February**

Olivia looked up, hearing heavy footsteps. "Hey," she said, surprised to see him standing by his desk. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out at some ritzy place with..."

He tossed something at her, shutting her up. "You still working on the Farrah case?"

She nodded, picking up the folded papers that landed on her desk. She unfolded them as he went to pour a cup of coffee, and she gasped. "Oh, Jesus, El," she said, stunned. "She gave you these on Valentine's Day? That had to cause some major fireworks!"

He put the coffee pot down and turned. He sipped as he said, "No, she gave them to me yesterday. I just signed them tonight. No fireworks...no...nothing, really." He walked toward her, putting the mug down on her desk. "You look like you need this more than I do."

"Thanks," she said, handing him the divorce papers and taking a sip of coffee. "Are you..."

"I'm fine," he interrupted, sitting in his chair. "Why aren't you out with what's-his-name?"

She laughed and shook her head. "Someone had to catch tonight," she shrugged. "Besides, it just wasn't working with Paul."

"Thought his name was Dan," Elliot said with narrow eyes.

"Ah-ha!" she yelled, pointing at him. "So you do pay attention," she teased, handing him the hot mug.

He breathed. "Ya got me, I knew his name," he said, sipping. He handed it back to her and blinked. "This is gonna be the saddest thing you've ever heard," he whispered, "But being here, alone with you...this is actually gonna be the best Valentine's Day I've had in a long time."

She smiled at him as she took another gulp of coffee from their shared mug. "Not really that bad, I guess," she said to him, winking.

They worked through the night, stopping to share coffee and an occasional playful glance. Something was happening, but they didn't know exactly what.

**March**

"Come on, man," Fin slurred, grabbing Elliot's wrist. "One more shot!"

Elliot chuckled. "I got somewhere to be tonight, I told you that. Twice."

"It's Saint Patrick's Day!" Fin shouted. "You're Irish!"

"The sky is blue!" Elliot retorted. "So what?"

Fin shook his head. "Isn't your job to...get drunk tonight?"

"Yeah," Elliot laughed, "But not with you at O'Malley's, man. I kind of...um...have a date."

Olivia's eyes shot up from the bar, and she coughed a bit. "I'm sorry, what?"

Elliot turned to her, a grin on his face. "I think it's time, ya know? Get back out into the field. Play a little ball."

"Yeah," she said, her heart breaking with each passing moment. "Don't strike out...but...don't swing for a home run on the first ball pitched to ya, okay?"

He tilted his head, trying to read her, get the meaning in her metaphor. When he did, he was stunned. "Yeah," he said to her. "I'll...I'll see you in the morning."

She watched him turn, she felt the last nerve in her body snap, and she downed the shot in her hand before asking the bartender for another one. If he was up at bat, swinging away, she would show him how the game was really played. "Ryan," she said, turning to the handsome lab tech to her left, "What are you doing tonight?

**April**

"We're gonna be late!" Elliot yelled, tying his tie quickly.

Maureen, his oldest daughter, ran down the stairs. "It's just Church, Dad, calm down."

"It's Church," he said, "On Easter Sunday, with..."

"Olivia," Maureen rolled her eyes. "We know. We all know."

Kathleen, walking into the room, chuckled. "How did this happen, again?"

Elliot sighed, pulling on his sleeves. "We were talking, she told me she broke up with Ryan, I said I was sorry...then I asked her what she was doing for Easter, she said nothing, I..."

"Hold on," Kathleen held up a hand. "The first date you're going on...with a woman you've been in love with for almost as long as I've been alive, is to Church? Are you trying to get laid or get Sainted?"

Elliot turned, his eyes wide. "What?"

"Nothing," Kathleen laughed, leaving the room. "I'll wait in the car," she said over her shoulder.

"It's not a date!" he yells after her. He turns to Maureen and repeats, "It's not a date."

Maureen hummed for a moment. "She has a point, Dad. Maybe you should have taken Liv to dinner or a movie or something before you asked her to pray to a God she doesn't believe in on a say that means nothing to her."

He watched his oldest daughter leave, and then looked back toward the mirror. "Shit," he huffed. He grabbed his keys, walked toward the door, and yelled, "Dickie! Lizzie! Let's move!" Without waiting for a response, he left the house, heading for the car, hoping this wasn't as big a mistake as he thought.

**July**

"It's your own fault," Fin said, chugging back a beer. "You ain't makin' any real moves. Girl's got needs."

Elliot swallowed back a sip of his own brew, the amber bottle held tightly in his hand. "It's not easy, Fin. This is...Olivia. I can't just dive into..."

"You can't just tell her how you feel?" Fin asked, cutting him off. "You keep tryin' to get her to make a play, but you know she won't. She has no idea how you feel and she's terrified of rejection." He sipped his beer again. "You two keep dancin' around it, flirtin' and hangin' out. How many times have you almost kissed her?"

Elliot was silent. The first firework went off, and from his spot on the roof he saw her face light up as she watched, in the arms of another man. "A few," he answered.

"She ever back away? Look at you like you were crazy? Ask what the fuck you were doin?" Fin asked, tossing his empty bottle into a bin nearby.

"No," Elliot replied. "Not once."

Fin folded his arms. "So she was ready for it, but you were the one that stopped, every time. What message do you think that sent her? Huh? Why is she over there, watchin' the fireworks with that ass instead of you?"

Biting his lip, Elliot scoffed. "How do I fix this?"

Fin slapped him on the back. "Give her better fireworks."

**October**

"You guys look great!" Olivia laughed, opening her door to see the Stabler kids, dressed up in costumes.

They thanked her, then babbled about their plans for the night. After talking about the three different parties to which they'd be heading, they made way for their father to get by.

"You keep him in line, Liv," Dickie said, watching his father walk into her apartment.

Olivia chuckled. "Oh, trust me, I will make sure he is on his best behavior, and I'll have him home by eleven."

Maureen smirked. "It's okay, we trust him. You can keep him out all night if you want."

Elliot, hearing her, yelled from the couch, "I'm gonna be home at eleven, that means all of you had better be there, in bed, by then. Do you hear me?"

There were mumbles of "Yes, Dad," "Sure thing" and "You got it," as the kids wandered down the hall and waved.

Olivia closed the door, then sighed as she walked toward the couch. "So, no costume for you?"

"I'm an off-duty detective," he said, pulling on his grey NYPD sweatshirt. "What about you?"

She plopped beside him and said, "An overworked, underpaid, highly stressed, cop."

They shared a laugh and settled together, almost cuddling.

He wrapped his arm around her as he picked up the remote. "Halloween marathon?"

"Every year," she nodded, dropping her head onto his shoulder.

After finding the channel, he wrapped the knitted blanket around them, and he realized how comfortable he was. He was petrified, but he knew he had to do it tonight, or he'd lose his nerve. "Liv?"

"Yeah?" she asked, looking up at him.

Her face was mere centimeters from his. "Close your eyes."

She raised her eyebrow for a moment, then sighed and closed her eyes. When she felt his lips touch hers, she moaned. Behind her closed lids, she saw them, bright and dangerous, crashing loudly. Fireworks.

He pulled away slowly, waiting for a reaction, waiting for some sign from her that she either loved him or hated him.

"What..." she started, but her eyes opened, and she looked at him. She saw the panic, the worry, the fear, and then she saw the love and the excitement swimming behind it all. She smiled at him, then gently eased closer to him. "Was that just as kiss, or..."

He kissed her again, both silencing her and answering her question, and he knew he got it right.

**November**

"That was, hands down, the best Thanksgiving dinner I think we've ever had," Elliot said, sighing happily as he sat on the couch.

Kathy, in a chair across from him, smiled. "No fighting, no yelling, just pleasant conversation and...that turkey was amazing. Who made the mashed potatoes?"

Elliot lifted a glass of wine to his lips and he smiled. "Liv," he said, leaning back to loop an arm over her shoulders.

Kathy laughed at the embarrassed look on Olivia's face, then tilted herself forward. "Just curious," she began. "How long did it take you two to get together after the divorce?"

"Actually, Kath," Elliot said, "Nothing happened. Not until Halloween."

"That's not entirely true," Lizzie interjected. She looked at her father and folded her arms. "Everything happened. You just didn't actually kiss her until Halloween."

Olivia turned to look at the teenager, then at Elliot, then she turned to Kathy. "Happy Thanksgiving," she said, shifting uneasily beside Elliot.

He pulled her tighter into him, kissed her cheek, and whispered, "I would have kissed you sooner. You know how much I wanted to."

She turned her head and nodded, telling him she knew. She kissed him softly, sighing in his arms, and she finally let herself be thankful for him, for taking it slow, and for being ready to move faster whenever he was.

**December**

He was perching himself up on his elbow, watching as she slept beside him. He traced the outline of her body beneath the sheets with one finger, amazed at how perfect it was. He let his eyes drift over her face, ever feature searing itself into his memory.

"You can be really creepy, sometimes," she mumbled, moving closer to him.

He laughed and wrapped his naked body around hers tightly. "Sorry," he whispered. "I was just thinking. We have to get up in a few hours, I wanted to have a few moments to myself."

"What were you thinking about?" she asked, her voice tired, her fingers dancing lazily across his chest.

"You," he said. "Us. I was thinking about how we spent so much time together, for so long, how we knew what was happening but neither of us did anything about it. How many opportunities to kiss you I missed, how many nights we could have spent, just like this, if I would have had the balls to..."

"Elliot," she cut him off. "You and I both know that...any sooner and we would have messed up somehow." She stopped moving her fingers and splayed her palm on his shoulder, nuzzling deeper into him. "There was no rush, we both needed to be sure, ya know?"

"I'm sure," he nodded. "I have been. After the divorce, I just...I was married for my whole adult life, I guess I wanted to be a bachelor for a while before I jumped right into marriage number two."

"You're getting married?" she asked, opening one eye to look at him curiously.

He laughed. "Eventually, yes," he said with a nod. "I knew...years ago...that if I was ever lucky enough to have you, I'd make damn sure I never let you go." He kissed her forehead. "You're it for me. I'm done. The end."

She smiled as her single opened eye closed again. "Good," she mumbled, drifting back to sleep.

He closed his eyes, then, too, and as he was heading closer and closer to peaceful slumber, he had a thought. No. Not a thought. A resolution.

**January 1st, Midnight**

The fireworks blasted into the air at the same moment the ball touched the flat top of the tower. Cheering erupted around them, but they heard nothing. They hadn't heard anything since they started kissing.

His hands were wound in her hair, he felt hers grasping at his back, under his coat. He pulled her closer and twisted his fingers, curling her hair around them more.

"Hey!" Fin yelled, throwing confetti at them. "Cut that shit out! It's been, like, ten minutes!"

Melinda smacked him on the shoulder. "Leave them alone," she chided. "I think it's sweet. You only get one shot at a good midnight kiss."

"Our kiss wasn't good?" he asked, offended.

Melinda laughed, then pointed at Olivia and Elliot, who'd finally broken apart. "Hers came with a diamond ring."

Fin's head turned, and he pointed. "You...you two just...how did I miss that?"

Elliot smiled and pulled Olivia into him, huddling close to her for warmth. The fog of his breath filtered upward as he said, "You were watching the fireworks."

**A/N: Next; Someone shows up on New Year's Eve, uninvited, and does something very unexpected. But very wanted.**


	4. What Would You Do?

**A/N: When an uninvited guest changes your life...**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and characters belong to Dick Wolf. This story belongs to TStabler. **

She pops up, her lovely dream interrupted by a pounding on her door, and she glares at the wood as the lock clicks and the knob turns. She sits up fast, only one other person has the key to her apartment. She's on her feet when he bursts into the room.

"Where the hell were you?" he asks, his eyes narrow, as he slams the door behind him.

She folds her arms and shakes her head. "Where do you think?" She bites her lip. "I was here. All night. Alone. So If there's a reason..."

"You're not...you were supposed to be there," he tells her, walking toward her. "You said you wanted to go."

She turns away from him, intent on keeping her distance. "I changed my mind, okay?" she snaps, facing the window on the wall behind her sofa. "I wasn't really up for a party."

He scoffs, he throws his jacket over the back of the couch, and he slides up behind her. "Why not?"

She closes her eyes, sensing him behind her. "Nothing to party about," she says softly. "It's been a shitty year, and I really don't see the point of celebrating the beginning of one that will be just as shitty."

He takes a breath and rests his hands on her shoulders. "What would you do if I promised you that next year isn't gonna be that shitty?" He tugs, turning her around.

"You can't make that kind of promise," she says, her head down. "Not unless you're finally ready to…"

"You told me you were going to that party, Liv," he breathes, interrupting her and moving closer to her face. "I went just to see you, you know that? I waited, for a fucking hour, and you never showed up. I had to drive over here, then I sat in my car for twenty minutes trying to decide if this was the right thing to do or not." He blinks and used one finger to ease her head up to look in her eyes. "Now we don't have enough time."

"Enough time for what?" she queries, her eyes finally shooting to his. "How much have you had to drink?"

He shakes his head. "I had a cup of coffee and a glass of water," he tells her. "I am more sober now than I have ever been, and I'm…this is where I need to be tonight." He blinks. "Forever, really. It just took me a while to figure it out, and I'm sorry I let you down, but I swear…it won't happen again."

She tries to back up, the wall stops her, and she can hear the roar of the huge crowd from a few blocks away, counting down to a new year, one she wishes wouldn't come. She brushes away the distraction and focuses on him again. "What?"

He smiles at her. "What would you do if I kissed you?" he whispers to her, leaning in just enough to brush his lips over hers.

Her heart stops, her breath hitches, and she answers him. "You don't wanna know."

"Fuck, yeah, I do," he tells her, and his watch beeps. It's midnight. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows the million or so people in Times Square have gotten to "one" and he crashes his lips into hers. He feels her body go rigid between him and the wall, and he thinks maybe he's made a mistake. Then, he feels her hands loop around him, clasping together at his back. He moans, deepening the kiss and moving his left hand down the front of her body.

She goes numb when she feels his fingers pulling at the drawstring of her black sweatpants, and she bites at his lips. "El?" she asks, the question in her voice evident.

He chuckles, still kissing her, as his hand slips into her waistband, digs under her panties, and smoothes over the hot flesh of her mound. "What would you do if I touched you, Liv?" he asks, almost panting. "Would you stop me?"

Her fingers detach themselves from each other and curl into his back, pressing hard into his skin. "No," she gasps, and as soon as the word leaves her mouth, one of his thick fingers presses into her.

He moans, feeling how hot she is, how wet she's become. He continues his assault on her lips as he thrusts and twists his finger. He hears the moans and cries from her, he shivers in response, and he takes a moment to breath as he pushes a second digit into her.

Her eyes are shut tight, her hands are gripping his body with everything they have, and she is almost crying as it all sinks in. Her back arches in a physical reply to his working hand, she nips and suckles on the tip of his tongue as it grazes over her lips.

"What would you do," he breathes, "If I made you cum, right here, right now?"

Her head drops back as she feels his thumb flick over her clit. A loud cry of his name is ripped from her involuntarily, she's never been a very vocal lover, and she shakes slightly. "God, you're about to find out."

He laughs and uses his right hand to draw her head back upright, to look into her eyes. He moves his fingers faster, twists them in new directions, and he rolls the pad of his thumb in circles over her clit, watching her as he brings her closer and closer to the edge. "Don't," he warns, seeing her shift. "Don't close your eyes. Look at me."

She tries, with every ounce of strength she has, to keep her eyes open and on his. The burning creeps up from the tips of her toes and she feels her slick slipping down her leg, she knows he can feel what he's doing to her. "Oh, my God," she whispers as her vision blurs. Everything surrounding his face is foggy, and she sees the grin on his face. That's when she loses it.

"Shit," he grunts, feeling her clench around his fingers, imagining her tightening around another part of his body. He can't stop, though, and he wriggles his fingers and jostles his thumb, driving her into an almost painful second rush. He watches the emotions cross her face, and he sees her pupils dilate. "Amazing," he whispers to himself, astonished at the reactions he never expected.

Her body trembles and a throaty grumble comes out of her mouth, she doesn't remember trying to speak but she hears herself say his name. Twice.

He finally relents, and he pulls his fingers out of her. He keeps his eyes on her, focused on the drugged look on her face, and he lifts his hand to her lips.

She doesn't hesitate, she sucks one of his fingers into her mouth, moaning. Her eyes burn into his, and she sees what she's doing to him.

He grunts, moves his hand, and replaces it with his mouth, kissing her with a harsh growl of her name. Her full name. "Olivia," it comes out sounding angry, but it's anything but.

She pulls away from his kiss, her hands move from his back to his chest, and she pushes him back, a frightened look in her eyes. "What the hell…"

"Don't," he says, the second time he's warned her against doing something he knows she's planning to do. "Liv, tonight…it's a new year. Baby, things can be different. Things are different."

She catches her breath, her eyes flutter as her vision returns to unprecedented clarity. "You…what were you gonna, at that party?" she asks. "Why were you so upset that I wasn't…"

"A kiss," he interrupts, taking her hand. He leads her, her sweatpants sagging around her hips, toward her bedroom. "A kiss at midnight with the one you love is supposed to bring you luck." He yanks once on her arm, making her fall into him, then pushes her to the bed with a laugh. "I wanted to get lucky, I guess."

She chuckles, watching him pull off his shirt. "Nice, El," she quips.

"I didn't meant…I mean, I didn't come here for…" he babbles. "I sound like an idiot."

She narrows her eyes and smirks, she crawls toward him and reaches for his belt buckle. "What would you do…if you got lucky tonight?"

He is shocked into silence, losing the ability to answer her, as he watches her slide his pants down. He gulps as he feels, and sees, her wrap her hand around his aching thickness, and he moans when she starts stroking him. "Shit," he breathes.

She raises an eyebrow and moves even closer, and she keeps her sight trained on him as she covers him with her mouth, slides her lips and throat over him until she can't anymore.

His hands tangle in her hair, he looks into her eyes as she sucks him, and he tries like hell to keep his thrusting to a minimum, but he knows he's losing control. He pulls on her hair, and she follows his silent instruction and she rises to her knees to kiss him.

It's not clear whose hands move where, who pulls off what, but the clothes fly and land on the floor. They can hear them plop as they land on the hard word, and all that remains are his black pants.

She moans against his lips as he presses into her, finally kicking off his pants as he flattens them both down on the mattress. Her fingers drag up his bare back and rest behind his head, and she can feel him trembling as he tries not to thrust into her. "Wait," she whispers, a realization hitting her.

He stops, freezing at once. "What? What's wrong?"

She looks up at him, and she smiles. "Did you just say…did you just say that you love me?"

"Oh, um," he clears his throat. "When?"

"You said," she stops to kiss his chin, "That kissing the one you love at midnight is supposed to bring you luck in the new year. You wanted me there, you were gonna kiss me…you love me?"

He kisses her, every muscle in his body burning with the desire to be inside of her. "What would you do," he whispers, rocking his hips forward, pushing in, "If I told you that I do?"

She moans as he slides into her, and once he's bottomed out, and she's stretched tightly around him, she answers him. "I would tell you I love you, too."

He slants his mouth over hers again, starting a slow rhythm, and he knows that the superstition is true, and his year has started off right. He's the luckiest man in the world, he believes, and he smirks as he picks up his pace. "Happy New Year, by the way," he whispers with a chuckle.

She laughs again, and shakes her head at him. "Happy New Year, El," she says, and for the first time in a long time, she really is happy.

**A/N: Next: New Year's Eve isn't exactly happy for a lonely detective...but someone makes it worth it.**


	5. Last Lonely Night

**A/N: Nobody wants to be lonely. Everyone wants to be loved. **

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and characters? Dick Wolf. This story? TStabler**

She's been watching him for the past hour, standing in the corner of the room, staring out the window. She's been trying to make her way over to him for just as long, but people keep stopping her to chat and dance, and because she is who she is, she accepts and she obliges, and she's no closer to him than she was an hour ago.

Finally, after downing a third glass of champagne at the request of a friend, she sidles up beside him, mimics his stance, and tilts her head. "Okay," she mumbles, "I don't get what's so interesting out there. Enlighten me?"

He sips his whiskey sour, then looks at her. "I'd rather look out there at nothing than have to watch you dance with every guy in the room but me."

She folds her arms and raises an eyebrow. "You haven't asked me to..."

"I wasn't aware I needed to ask," he interrupts. He gives her a decidedly unhappy look, shoots down the rest of his drink, and shrugs. "Sorry. Guess I'm just in a bad mood, tonight." He turns his focus back toward the skyline out the window. "An empty house will do that to ya. Kids are gone, you probably weren't coming over after this thing tonight, it just..."

"El," she breathes, feeling badly, "Don't do this to yourself. Not tonight, please?"

"I thought if I came here..." he stops to laugh spitefully, "I would at least have you with me for a while. You're like fucking Miss America tonight, though, and I'm more alone here than I would have been if I stayed home."

Her eyes twitch, her nostrils flare, but she knows he's been drinking and she knows he's not himself right now. She rips the empty glass out of his hands and finds a spot on a nearby bench for it. She grabs his hand and pulls him through the doors to the balcony. "You wanna talk to me, El, you do it out..."

"Jesus," he spits, cutting her off. "It's freezing out here! Are you out of your mind bringing me out here? Dressed like that?" He pulls off his suit jacket and wraps it around her shoulders, then pulls her closer to him.

She shivers harder now that he's running his hands over her body than before, and his scent is invading her every breath. His jacket is bathed in the strong, sweet smell she loves, and she inhales deeply for a moment, closing her eyes. "It's not that cold," she whispers.

He rests his chin on top of her head, then, and he says, "I'm sorry. I know I'm being grumpy, and...I should have just asked you to dance in there. I didn't...I didn't think I could compete with those other guys, though."

"There is no competition," she says, moving her head a bit to the left, and his head drops to her shoulder. She shivers again as his hot breath hits the sensitive skin of her neck. "All you have to do, El, is ask. Anything. For you, the answer's always gonna be yes. I thought I proved that to you a long time ago. When Kathy left...with the kids...whatever you..."

He nods, his nose brushing along the curve of her shoulder as he moves. "I know, Liv," he tells her. "I just...I still think that...I'm so afraid you're gonna...it's a risk, and I didn't know if..."

She pushes him away from her to look into his eyes. "You've had a thousand opportunities to talk to me about this at home, why are you doing it now? Here?" She narrows her eyes and tries to see through his hazy, drunken gaze. "What's going on?"

"You're my best friend," he says, definitively. He spies a waiter walking by them, he grabs two glasses off of the tray he's carrying, and then hands one to Olivia. "My partner," he bites, raising the glass to her. He gulps it down half-way, without even knowing what it is.

Olivia coughs as she takes a sip of hers, her eyes wide in shock. "That's strong, El, you should really slow..."

He laughs, then, stopping her words. "Ya know what?"

"What?" she questions, slowly swallowing down the alcohol she feels she needs tonight.

He makes a face and shrugs his shoulders. "I'm done worrying about it. I know damn well how I feel, and it's not worth making myself miserable because I'm a little nervous. Because...I already know..." he moves his head. His face is inches from hers. "I know."

"You know what?" she asks, her heart hammering in her chest. Her fingers have gone numb and she can't feel her legs, but it's not from the cold. It's from the way he's looking at her, and from the fact that his lips are getting closer and closer to hers.

"I know you love me, too," he whispers. "That's why you do what you do, and that's why you've been there through all of this for me. You love me," he confirms, and his tongue pokes out and glides along the seam of her lips.

Because of her nerves and her sense of humor, she can't stop the laughter that bursts out of her mouth. She is worried about hurting him, that he would take it as insulting, but then she notices he's laughing with her. "Did you just...you just..."

"Licked you," he nods, chuckling. "It was sexier in my mind," he laughs. "Come here," he says, then, his voice low and the laughter suddenly gone. He pulls her hard, pressing himself into her firmly, chest-to-chest as he grips her hands. "You do, though."

She takes a final breath to end her fit of giggles, and knowing what he's asking, she looks into his eyes, more serious than she's ever seen them, and she nods.

He moves fast, not giving her time to back away and not giving himself time to change his mind. He kisses her, softly pressing his lips to hers, and through the open doors behind him he hears the roomful of people counting down from ten. "Liv," he whispers, the tip of his nose delicately rubbing against hers. "I can go home right, I can forget this ever happened, if that's what you want. But tonight, I'm asking you..."

"Yes," she whispers, pulling her hands out of his to wrap them around his neck. "Anything you ask, remember?"

He smirks at her, the grin he knows drives her crazy, and he says, "In five seconds, you'll be mine. You know that, don't you? You won't be able to go back in there and dance with Trevor, or Fin, or Ryan..."

"I have been waiting all night to dance with you, El," she tells him. She hears the loud chanting and raises her voice. "But I've been waiting a lot longer to kiss you."

With a shaky breath, he whispers, "Happy New Year," and crashes his mouth into hers. His tongue moves, slower this time, and with more purpose, across her lips, and as he feels her mouth open for him, he hears the fireworks bursting over the Hudson.

It's as if she can see the flashing lights behind her closed eyes, she's lost in him and truly feels the fireworks are caused by his kiss. Her hands slip up and down his neck, she feels his fingers running through her hair, and she can't remember ever feeling so emotional because of a kiss before.

He hears the footsteps, he know people are filing out onto the balcony to watch the fireworks, but he doesn't care. He is where he needs to be, and he made the resolution long ago that if all went well tonight, once she was in his arms, he'd hold on for dear life.

Though she doesn't want to pull away from him, the burning in her lungs is making her body ache, and she has so much she wants to do with that body tonight. "El," she pants, prying her lips away from his, "Just tell me you're not..."

"I'm not drunk enough to not realize what I'm doing," he tells her, pecking small, soft kisses along her jaw line. "I'm a little scared, but I'm not drunk. Trust me." He smoothes his hands down to cup her face, and he smiles at her as he kisses her again.

She's scared, too, she thinks, smiling against his lips, but she couldn't be more willing to head into a new year with him.

**A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!**


End file.
